


A Different Kind of Chat

by britishparty



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishparty/pseuds/britishparty
Summary: After a fight with the Instinctor, Ladybug finds that Chat Noir has undergone an entirely new type of transformation. She has no idea why her Lucky Charm has failed-- and apparently Adrien's missing, too.Determined to fix things as ever, Ladybug sets out to help her new friend and find Adrien in the streets of Paris.





	A Different Kind of Chat

The collar has a silent bell, but no tag.

Well, Ladybug supposes that technically yes, it does have a tag.

But the tag is a flat circle of black metal, indented with a neon green paw. No words, no name, no owner.

Ladybug supposes that makes sense.

“Chat,” she chides the kitty gently, “what am I going to do with you?”

The cat meows.

“Yeah,” Ladybug agrees softly.

She's not sure why Chat didn't change back, after she'd beaten the akuma, after she'd healed the city. Her light had encompassed countless people, reverting their animal shapes back into human beings-- but not Chat.

No, her faithful partner remained a little kitty cat on this street, true to his nature. Not even a shred of the human Chat was has returned, if the way he rubs against her ankles now is any evidence. She’s sure this is him, though; what civilian would turn into a black cat with a collar like that?

Ladybug's earrings beep. It's terrible, to have a time restraint even now, but it reminds her that she can't take her time.

She does anyway, running a hand along his back. He purrs and arches into the touch, smiling happily at her with those green eyes.

Such a shade of green. As amazing as it looks on a human, it’s flooring on a cat. Bright green, like new leaves, not the typical faded green of cats.

She needs to take him in. Who knows what kind of trouble he would get into as a true alley cat.

“For once I wish I knew your real name, mon chaton,” Ladybug says to him. “Your family will get worried if you don't change back soon.”

Chat meows.

With a sigh that sends her breath out in frosty clouds, Ladybug scoops him up.

Her earrings beep.

She's not sure if human Chat will remember anything from this, but she's not willing to take that chance. She'll leave the cat on her balcony for Marinette to “find.”

So she does. The cat meows pitifully when Ladybug steps onto the railing to leave, chasing after her escaping feet with eyes that look almost desperate.

“My friend will take good care of a cat like you,” Ladybug tells him. “I trust her. You're safe.”

The beep of her earrings is drowned in the heartbreaking yowl that comes as she takes off.

Ladybug lands two streets over, darts into an empty stairway leading to an upstairs café, and lets the transformation fade. It's not the safest place she could've chosen, but she had only moments to spare.

Marinette slips Tikki into her purse and races home, tripping twice and bumping into someone once. She has never been graceful, particularly with the chilled frosty ground, but the thought of Chat abandoned on her roof is not a steadying one.

She barely has time to call out a greeting to her father before she’s flying upstairs. Marinette freezes when she realizes her mother is pushing open the trapdoor to her room, looking for her.

“Maman!” she cries before her mother can look inside. “I’m here!”

Sabine, much to Marinette’s growing love, looks down at her. She drops the hatch and heads down the stairs.

“There you are,” her mother says, and the relief is clear in her voice. “We’d heard that another villain had gotten close to us, so Papa sent me up to check.”

Marinette huffs out a laugh. “I’m fine, Maman. They’ve never come near me.”

It’s a lie, perhaps the most brazen lie she’s outright said since she became Ladybug. She hardly notices, though, because Sabine just nods and then Marinette is off, up to her room.

Chat is prowling on her roof in the cold; Marinette’s heart almost breaks at the sight of him, fur fluffed up and eyes wild. He yowls forlornly off her balcony, in the direction Ladybug left.

“Kitty cat,” Marinette calls softly. “Hey, sweetheart, come here.”

She’s always had a soft spot for cats, even before she met Chat Noir. This cat is beautiful, too, black with the most gorgeous green eyes she’s ever seen, and fur that feels as soft as Chat’s hair looks. She doesn’t have to pretend anything to call him _sweetheart,_ like she calls most cats.

Chat seems to calm when he looks at her; some part of him recognizes her, remembers her. He’s still somewhat agitated, tail lashing back and forth, but he lets her creep towards him, crouching with a hand outstretched.

Marinette holds her breath when Chat leans forward, sniffing at her fingers. His eyes widen, and a purr rumbles out of his chest. Instantly he’s pressing in close, winding himself around her.

“Hey there,” Marinette says to him, smiling faintly at the way he seems desperate to be pet.

Deciding to keep up the charade just in case, she reaches forward and grasps at the tag on his collar.

“That’s a very familiar paw,” she tells him fondly. She’s not pretending very hard; she highly doubts Chat will remember any of this. “How about I name you after a good friend of mine?”

Chat mewls, a tiny sound that makes Marinette grin and pull him tight against her chest.

“Yeah. You're Chat,” she says. “It suits you.”

The cat purrs.

 

* * *

 

 

Marinette wakes up to paws on her face.

Chat meows.

“Hey,” Marinette mumbles, and rolls over.

The paws find her ear instead, bending the cartilage with soft toe beans. Marinette rolls back towards him and is rewarded with a paw in her eye socket. She’s glad that she has absolutely no urge to lift her eyelids yet.

“Rude,” she tells him, still half-asleep, and chases his paw away with a sleep-heavy hand. She follows the paw until it leads her back to his body, then she grabs him and pulls him close.

“No playing,” she says. “Just sleep.”

He wriggles in her grip, though, tugging up and away and leaping off the bed.

Marinette gratefully thinks she’s been left in peace, and starts going back to sleep.

It’s Tikki’s shrill cry that has her jolting out of bed, her mind running through a whole list of worst-case scenarios in an instant. It’s a much ruder awakening than any cat could be, but also much more effective.

Well. It’s a ruder awakening than _most_ cats could be, but Chat Noir is apparently not counted in that.

Tikki squirms in his mouth, trying desperately to free herself. “Marinette!” she cries, shoving at the side of his mouth as if that would encourage him to widen his teeth.

Marinette sighs, and sits back down on her bed.

“Chat,” Marinette says chidingly, rubbing a hand against her eyes, “come here.” She clicks her fingers and makes a little kissy noise, like she does to get cats’ attention.

Chat instantly heads towards her, Tikki is his mouth like a prize. He jumps up beside her and places Tikki in her lap. He turns those big green eyes on her expectantly.

“I know, sweetheart,” Marinette says to him, rubbing at his head. “I’m sorry, I was ignoring you.”

Chat lets out a little _mrow_ at that, like he’s agreeing. He noses at Tikki almost as an apology, rubbing a cheek against her tiny face.

“Hey, Plagg,” Tikki says, almost sadly. She reaches up a tiny hand and puts it on Chat’s nose; he doesn’t flinch away, just smiles at her with squinty eyes and flicks his tail.

“Plagg?” Marinette asks.

“Chat’s kwami,” Tikki tells her. She doesn’t take her eyes off of Chat.

“Will he --” Marinette pauses. “Will he be okay?”

“I hope so,” Tikki says softly. “We haven’t exactly done this before. Hawkmoth-- he’s not supposed to be _evil,_ not like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette says. She gets up, heading for her closet.

“What are you going to do with him?” Tikki asks.

“Take care of him?” Marinette responds, like she’s not sure why Tikki has to ask. She pulls on a turtleneck sweater-shirt-warm thing, and her flannel-lined jeans.

“You don’t have cat food or anything,” Tikki says.

“It’s Saturday,” Marinette says, picking up a warm coat that almost goes all the way down to her knees and a bag bigger than her normal purse. “I can go out shopping.”

She stuffs a hat onto her head, drapes a big scarf around her neck, and puts gloves in one of her pockets. Tikki makes a nest of the gloves as she settles into Marinette’s pocket, and then together they disappear downstairs.

Both of her parents are probably already working down in the bakery, but there are two remaining croissants left on the side for her and a scrap of paper with two hearts drawn on it; a central one, curly and beautiful, in Sabine’s handwriting, and a rougher one crowded in the corner, from her dad.

Chat meows, on the other side of the hatch. Marinette glances up to where she’s closed it after her; he’s scratching at it, wanting to follow her.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll smuggle you out,” Marinette offers, already heading up the stairs.

He meows once, but stops scratching. Marinette lifts the door and he bolts into her arms, almost knocking her over.

“Come on then, under my coat,” Marinette tells him, undoing the top few buttons and pushing back her collar.

Chat creeps under it with surprising ease, settling on her shoulders and burying himself under her scarf. Marinette’s lumpy shoulders would never pass as normal indoors, but with the scarf and the chill outside, Marinette might be able to sell it.

She snatches up one of the croissants, realizing it’s already gone ten o’clock, and heads downstairs. Her parents are both working, so she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek and a quick goodbye, and is gone before they can ask what she means when she says she’s going out.

Marinette, about a block from her house, starts feeling Chat wiggling in her coat. She sneaks a hand up, trying to placate him, but he rubs up against it and follows it out, jumping from her neckline onto the street. The person a few feet ahead of her, on the sidewalk, gives her the weirdest look and keeps walking.

“Bad cat,” she scolds lightly. “People will think I cat-napped you.”

Chat doesn’t seem bothered, rumbling out a purr and rubbing against her ankles. He seems content to follow when she keeps walking, so eventually Marinette stops worrying about him running off and heads briskly for the shopping district.

“Is there a pet shop around here?” Tikki pops out of her pocket, glancing first up at Mari then down at Chat.

“Yeah, on the corner between the toy store and the hot chocolate cafe,” Marinette tells her absently. “They sell ferrets and things, too. As long as Chat’s not too obvious, he can come in with me.”

And he does, even though Marinette tells him he should really stay outside several times. He trots along quietly at her heels and ducks out of sight behind a passing shopper whenever they see a staff member.

Marinette only gets a small bag of cat food - after all, how long will Chat stay like this? - and two bowls. Wrinkling her nose, she throws in a litter tray and cat litter, and sneakily grabs a pack of catnip treats. Just in case.

The employee who she buys everything from clearly notices the cat wrapped around her ankles, but he gives her a little smile and says he’s always had a weak spot for black cats, too.

“Yeah, I think I’m in love,” Marinette says, a little too sincerely. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

On the way to the door, she catches sight of a machine used to engrave tags for collars. Her mind flashes back to the green paw print on his tag, and the unsurprising lack of anyone to reach out to.

“Here, Chat,” she says, reaching down and unhooking it. He flinches back as soon as it’s off, growing almost frightened in its absence.

“I’ll just be a moment, sweetheart,” she tells him gently, and feeds the tag into the machine.

Gingerly, like if she presses too hard she’ll somehow mess it up, she taps her name and address onto the screen. It takes a few minutes where Chat anxiously meows up at her and she strokes him to calm him down, getting strange looks from everyone walking by, and finally the machine announces that it’s done.

She holds the tag up as if to show him, smiling at the neat lettering engraved into the back.

“There,” she tells him as she puts it back on his collar. “Now you’re not a stray any more.”

Chat licks her hand, purring as if by being loud enough it would somehow communicate with her. He looks so happy, like he first did when Chat got tangled up in her - figuratively and literally. It breaks Marinette’s heart, just a little, to see something so like Chat Noir in this black cat’s eyes.

Marinette hefts her bag higher on her shoulder, and strides out into the street.

 

* * *

 

 

Marinette turns up to school on Monday, as always. A black cat follows on her heels all the way, darting ahead like he knows the way before looping back.

She crouches next to him on the stairway, ignoring her freezing fingers to rub behind his ears.

“You can’t come in, darling,” she tells him. “Really, this time.”

Chat meows like he doesn’t understand. He probably doesn’t. Even so, he doesn’t try to follow her when she stands up, aware she’s about to be late, and heads inside.

He doesn’t trail after her, but twenty minutes into first period Marinette figures out why. As soon as the teacher steps past Adrien’s unexplained empty seat and out of the room for a second, someone - Kim, probably - cracks a window to escape the stifling warmth of the constantly-running heaters. Within seconds Rose leaps up from her seat and gasps.

“There’s a cat!” Rose yells, tone all too delighted.

In an instant Marinette’s head snaps around, finding the little culprit without any issue. She _knows_ who it is without a moment’s hesitation; is he ever not a nuisance? Before she can even leave her seat, Rose has scooped up the cat and is crooning at him.

“So where’d you come from, handsome?” she asks. “Can I check your collar?”

Marinette opens her mouth to object, to at least say _something,_ but Rose is already checking. Marinette gets to her feet and starts heading for the back of the room, determined to at least hold Chat if she can’t stop anything else from happening.

“Marinette?” Rose glances up at her, confused. “You have a cat?”

“Just got him recently,” Marinette says, smoothly lifting Chat from Rose’s arms. “You’re a nuisance, aren’t you?”

Yes, it’s embarrassing to cradle her-- no, not her, _the_ cat in front of an entire classroom of people, to sweet-talk to him, but some habits are hard to break. Besides, Chat’s purr is well worth it.

“Pets aren’t allowed in school,” Chloe reminds her from the front of the room. She’s been mellow today, but apparently there’s only oh so much she can put up with.

“I’m well aware, Chloe,” Marinette says. She should probably put him back outside, but Chat’s fur is so cold from only being out there a little while, and she _knows_ he won’t leave if she’s here.

She heads back to her seat, Chat tucked under one arm like a parcel. He doesn’t wriggle, just lets his legs dangle and purrs at her in his familiar way.

When she sits down and sets him down next to her, he curls up in her lap, the chill of his fur seeping through her pants. Marinette hopes he’s getting some of her warmth in return for his cold.

Alya grins at her. “New cat, huh? What’s his name?”

She eyes the tag, black and green paw-print, like she knows. She does. Marinette knows that grin all too well, has bet against it too many times to be fooled now.

“Chat,” Marinette tells her, and the embarrassment is forgotten the instant she feels a familiar ache. “Chat Noir.”

It hurts more than she wants to admit, to say that. She’s kind of forgotten that this tiny bundle of fur is her loyal partner, her Chat Noir. (She really shouldn’t think of him as _hers._ He’s a stray; she _knows_ he’s a stray. No engraved tag would ever change that.)

Nino smiles, but the expression is perhaps a little sad. “I know you like Chat, Mari, but really? Why that?”

“I found him near the Instinctor during the battle,” Marinette says. That’s the akuma who’d wanted to extinguish the human race, make them extinct, and so turned them into a whole bunch of other animals. “I thought he might be someone, but he didn’t change back afterward, so I kept him.”

“Did you see Adrien?” That’s Alya, voice hushed. Nino’s smile vanishes instantly.

“No?” Marinette glances over at her. Chat’s ears perk up. “Why? Did he get hurt?” But her Charm should’ve _fixed_ that-- or maybe not, because the cat in her lap is a clear indication that at least one thing wasn’t put right by the Charm.

“No,” Nino says gently, placing a hand near hers on the desk. “It’s not public knowledge, but Chloe told us. He-- he hasn’t been seen since that fight.”

Friday. Adrien hasn’t been seen since _Friday?_ Marinette had seen him in the beginning of the fight, before Chat showed up, but he’d been ducking into the subway station to get cover. She’d assumed he was safe; besides, she had bigger fish to fry.

Something very Ladybug in her is suddenly demanding she get up, get out. She can cover ground like no one else, search from the sky; surely _she_ can find Adrien, if no one else can.

Chat slides off her lap, onto the seat. He meows at Nino. Marinette barely hears him except to scratch distractedly at his chin.

“If he’s not found soon, it’ll go public,” Alya continues. “Gabriel wants to avoid that, I’m sure, but having the general public know will help find him.”

Chloe is uncharacteristically silent. Chat meows again.

“Is there --” Marinette hesitates. How much can she ask? “Is there any chance he got turned into an animal by the Instinctor, and didn’t turn back?”

Alya shakes her head slowly. “No one else is missing.”

Marinette glances down at her handsome black cat. He’s distressed, tail lashing back and forth, but he doesn’t seem angry.

“Oh,” Marinette says.

Marinette’s sure Adrien is still an animal, loose in Paris somewhere, but she can’t argue any further without giving something away. Without revealing that her Chat Noir, sitting beside her, is _the_ Chat Noir, she can’t provide any evidence for her suspicions.

The door opens, and the teacher glances around at the class. Chat stills in an instant, crouching in a tiny ball against Marinette’s thigh. Ms. Bustier’s eyes sweep over the rows, skipping over Marinette without noticing Chat.

As soon as she turns around, Alya, apparently sensing Marinette’s mood, leans over and whispers, “Don’t worry Mari, we know he’s wandering around somewhere. I know Ladybug turned everyone back. Her Charm _never_ fails.”

It’s meant to be reassurance, so Marinette nods numbly even though that just makes her feel guilty, like it’s somehow _her_ fault that her Charm didn’t work properly, that everyone but two people turned back.

Marinette is silent for the rest of the day, only nudging Chat when she needs to change classes so he can disappear into her backpack for a few minutes.

 

* * *

 

Marinette comes in the next day cat-less, with one restless hour of sleep. She puts her head down on her desk and doesn’t look at the empty seat in front of her.

 

* * *

 

 

Ladybug leaps backwards out of the way of a grasping root, yo-yo in hand and eyes focused on the trowel in the Guardener’s hands. The akuma sprang from out of nowhere; a gardener whose plants had apparently been attacked, striking out in search of her revenge.

Oh, what would Ladybug not give for the black cat watching her from the sidewalk to be her Chat Noir? He was useless like this; another liability, another _body_ to keep track of and worry about and protect. At least he hadn’t seen her transform.

Despite the tangle of roots and vines, creeping up and over the akuma’s feet and legs and anchoring them to the ground in a way that looks distinctly possessive to Ladybug, Chat trots towards the Guardener. Ladybug wants to do something to stop him, but she’s sluggish from lack of sleep and can’t let her focus slip from the Guardener for even a second.

“Hello, little kitty,” the akuma coos, momentarily distracted from Ladybug’s darting movements in the road, avoiding reaches branches and grasping roots. “Have you been mistreated too?”

Chat is snatched up by a tendril of ivy, curled in close by the akuma’s side and held there. Ladybug reaches out for him with her yo-yo, hoping to either cut him free or pull him out; she’s not sure which, she’s just desperate, she needs to get Chat out--

Chat leaps from the ivy just as her yo-yo cuts it, landing beside the akuma’s feet and purring as he weaves back and forth amid the knotted roots.

“Ch- Cat, come here!” Ladybug cries, just barely ducking under a branch that swings for her head, and reaching out for his tiny form.

“Ah, ah!” The Guardener stops Ladybug short, roots tangling around her hands and yanking them down, manacling her to the dirt beneath the cracked pavement. “You just want to hurt him! You all do, you care for nothing but your own _human_ lives!”

Two tendrils of ivy rush with surprising speed towards Ladybug’s ears. She yelps, tugging at her hands in the ground desperately. Her lack of sleep is making her so slow, so weak, but she can’t give up. If they take her earrings, Chat is lost forever-- she _can’t,_ she can’t lose now, not when he needs her.

The ivy stops short, one tendril midway and the other brushing her earlobe. Chat is climbing up the Guardener’s leg, tiny claws sinking into the gaps between the roots as he distracts her from attacking Ladybug, however briefly.

Ladybug digs her way out downwards, scrabbling the loose dirt away so she can pull her wrists free. It’s not an easy escape, and will leave her with scrapes and bruises, but she’s out.

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug cries, hoping desperately it will be something useful.

It’s a flare. A _flare._

Ladybug does the only sensible thing she can think of, sleep-deprived as she is, and lights it on fire. With a simple underhand toss, it lands in a nearby tree, and the combination of light and sparks makes it seem as if the tree’s on fire.

The Guardener lurches toward the tree almost as if pulled by something. It’s enough to give Ladybug the surprise advantage; she lunges for the Guardener, and is swiftly engulfed in the tide of vines and roots and branches that grasp at her and push and pull, but Ladybug _refuses_ to give.

The trowel is torn from the Guardener’s hands, and everything falls still at once. Ladybug stops wriggling in surprise, seeing through the gaps in the plants that Chat is holding it in his mouth by the handle.

“Bring that back!” The Guardener snatches at the air Chat had been just a second before; he trots, easy as a breeze, through the snarl of roots and branches and vines, and drops the trowel into Ladybug’s open palm, her wrist knotted through two conjoining roots.

She crumples it in her hand, bending and twisting the metal until the akuma is squeezed free. The roots crumble around her as it flies free, and Ladybug snatches it up in her yo-yo.

There is a blur of black, a movement, and this time Ladybug cleanses the butterfly and fixes the world with a tiny black cat twined between her ankles.

A confused-looking woman, in a dirty beige apron and gardening gloves, looks up at Ladybug.

“Madam, the man who knocked over your saplings didn’t mean any harm.” Ladybug is quick to reassure her, helping her to her feet with one hand. “He was in a hurry, please forgive him.”

“Of course.” The woman blinks owlishly large brown eyes at her. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble, Ladybug.”

The akumatized victims are becoming quicker to realize what’s happened. It’s a blessing Ladybug doesn’t take for granted; it means they’re less likely to pursue some kind of vengeance, and it makes her job a lot easier.

“Nothing a little luck can’t fix,” Ladybug reassures her. “And if you’ll excuse me--”

She is turning to go when Alya bounds up to her, eyes bright and eager and phone at the ready. She’s swaddled in warm clothes and a heavy coat; Ladybug, without the adrenaline in her veins, is starting to feel both the chill and the weight of her lethargy.

“Ladybug!” Alya starts, like an explosion. “That was awesome! Though I have to ask, who’s this fellow and where’s Chat Noir?”

Ladybug feels herself freeze, right down to her bones. “Chat’s-- away,” she manages tightly. “This is my stand-in kitty.” Ladybug forces a smile, bending down to scoop him up. “He’s already more useful than Chat.” He feels too heavy in her arms; he wasn’t this heavy yesterday. Ladybug really hasn’t been sleeping enough.

The cat rumbles out a purr in her arms, and Alya grins at him.

“Is he a present?” Alya asks. “From a Mr. Noir?”

“No,” Ladybug says, casually turning away so Alya can’t see the collar or the tag. “He’s some mangy stray I picked up. I seem to have a weakness for them.”

Alya smiles, but stiffens when Ladybug’s earrings beep.

“I’ll let you go, then,” she says graciously. For once, Ladybug doesn’t have to excuse herself, and it’s _wonderful._ Thank you, Alya.

“Till next time,” Ladybug says, and winks, because Chat isn’t here to do it.

Within seconds she’s off, cat under one arm and yo-yo in the other.

She leaves Chat on her own roof, promising “Marinette” will come find him soon, she’s sure. He doesn’t look as heartbroken as the first time, but the fact that she can hear his yowling one street over still breaks her heart.

Ladybug darts behind a row of potted plants on an apartment building and de-transforms, immediately grateful for the warm coat and hat Marinette had been wearing; she really doesn’t have the energy to go wasting body heat. She slips Tikki into a pocket that has cookies, gloves, and a hand-warming packet she’s taken to keeping just for when Tikki gets cold.

The journey back is short, sped up by the fact she can _still_ hear Chat yowling. Marinette is doubtful of how long she can keep him secret from her parents, but with luck it will be a little while longer. Just until she can turn him back, at least.

Him and Adrien. She still hasn’t found him yet.

 

* * *

 

Marinette crashes after that battle, and crashes badly. It’s only Wednesday; she hasn’t slept properly since Sunday, before she knew Adrien was missing. She sleeps like the dead for eight hours, and as soon as she’s even slightly conscious she forces herself to get up. It’s two in the morning, but that doesn’t stop her.

Chat’s up as soon as her feet touch the ground, meowing loudly, but she won’t be dissuaded. Marinette puts down a little fresh food, runs a hand along his back, and heads for the roof in only her pajamas. It’s tricky to escape without letting Chat out, but she manages.

She berates herself for sleeping so long. A whole eight hours was excessive-- she’s gone more time on less, probably. There’s still the persistent guilt, crippling and cruel, because she spent time _sleeping_ when Adrien is still missing, somewhere out in the wintery cold.

Tikki tries to talk her out of it - it’s two in the morning, she has _school_ tomorrow - but Marinette refuses to listen. Tikki can’t argue once she’s suited up, anyway; Ladybug is quick to appear, pausing for only a moment to shiver in the cold before taking off.

Nearly seven hours later, Marinette flings open her roof hatch and trips over Chat, where he’s curled up in a tiny ball, pressed against the hatch like he was waiting for her.

Lying in a pile at the bottom of the ladder, Marinette lifts one frozen hand to run it through his fur. Her limbs are sore and tired from all the distance she’d covered, and there’s a bone-deep ache all over from the way the cold keeps making her shiver.

Chat meows at her, eyes wild with concern and anxiety at her shivering, even now, even inside. Marinette doesn’t think too much on it, just pulls herself up, cursing the bruises she knows will form, and adds a little more food to the untouched food bowl. Her bed is painfully tempting, but instead she grabs a fresh change of clothes and heads downstairs for a shower. The heat will help give back some feeling in her arms and legs.

The hot water feels like it’s burning as soon as it touches her skin. Marinette would worry about hypothermia, but she’s tired and grumpy and doesn’t have _time._ She stays in the shower only as long as it takes to get the feeling back in her fingers - a worryingly long amount of time - before she gets out and flees back to her room.

In a final attempt to wipe out some of the weariness in her body, she collapses into her bed and takes a power-nap. Her alarm and Chat work together to get her up in time for school; the thought of Adrien, still missing, is what drives her out of bed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Marinette says to Chat as she gets up, gets dressed. “Sorry I was out for so long. I’m doing okay, though. Don’t worry.”

Chat meows. Yeah, Marinette’s words aren’t fooling her, either.

She does feel better for the nap, forty minutes though it was, and for the shower. The food her mother crams onto her plate helps, and so does Chat’s enthusiasm.

Marinette is dressed and ready for school on time, like clockwork. The movements feel mechanic, disconnected, but that’s fine. Marinette is _fine._

She drinks an entire mug of coffee in seconds, stuffs Chat inside her jacket, and flees.

Outside, though, the façade falls apart. As soon as the bakery is out of sight, Marinette releases Chat from her jacket with a little smile.

“I have to go do something,” she tells him quietly. “You stay out of trouble, alright? If you get cold, go home; Maman and Papa will take care of you.”

Chat meows, something not far from a growl rumbling in his chest. Before he can act, Marinette takes off, jogging down the street. Chat tries to follow her, but she’s got longer legs and doesn’t look back.

Marinette runs five blocks in the direction opposite school before she ducks into an alley, behind a dumpster, and shucks off her backpack and coat and scarf. Tikki protests loudly, but Marinette cuts her off. She doesn’t have a say in the matter: this is _Ladybug’s_ issue, her mistake to fix.

Ladybug scoops up the coat and scarf and puts them on. They’re Marinette’s, but they’re not as warm as her preferred coat, so they never get worn and she doesn’t think anyone will recognize them. She carries her backpack six blocks back to her house, and hides it behind her chimney.

She’s never skipped school like this before, but she’s never had a reason to. Now, all Ladybug can think about is Adrien. She’s pushing herself too hard, but she _has_ to find him.

 

* * *

 

The pattern develops with frightening intensity. By Friday night Marinette is exhausted, hardly a few hours of sleep in the past three days, but her guilt and anxiety are so terrible she’s somehow still moving. She eats whatever breakfast she can, skips lunch, leaves to go to and arrive from school on time (she never makes it as far as class), and then comes home only for dinner and at about six AM for a nap.

And still, she presses on. Friday night sees Ladybug out and about like every day since Monday. Last week’s Friday had been the thrill of battle, the usual comfortable teasing with Chat. This week, Ladybug is delirious with tiredness, stumbling over her own feet and on the verge of crying. Her fingers and toes are long since past the point of _cold,_ but her limbs aren’t quite cold-numbed -- she’s been moving too much for that -- but it’s as if her nerves are dead from lack of energy. Her yo-yo misses more than half the time and she’s bruised all over, ready to just give up.

There’s no sign of Adrien anywhere. Not a single stray cat, dog, bird, _nothing._ It’s frustrating.

Gabriel Agreste had finally agreed to go public yesterday morning; Ladybug has one of Adrien’s posters, not nearly as flattering as his photoshoots, crumpled in her hand like if she destroys the paper, she’ll destroy the problem.

What-- what if Adrien isn’t an animal? Ladybug stills as she lets the idea sink in, two blocks away from home and looking at her rooftop as if she doesn’t want to go back, even though the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. What if he’s human?

God, what if he’s _dead?_ The thought is a bolt of fear, anxiety, panic all wrapped up and stuffed down her throat. She chokes on it, can’t breathe.

Ladybug needs-- something. Somebody. Anybody to rely on, right now, someone who she can press close and remember how to breathe. She needs to be in another presence--

Chat.

Neglected Chat, pressed against the trapdoor waiting. Lonely Chat, abandoned in her desperate search. Chat the cat, who wants pats and cuddles and purrs softly at her when she jokes with him.

It almost isn’t a conscious thought to go to her rooftop, she just does. Now that she’s not focused on it, her yo-yo works seamlessly and Ladybug lands next to the trapdoor, flinging it open and tumbling down the ladder.

Like it’s second nature, her arms clamp down around Chat when he nears her. The poster is still curled up in her left hand, but she uses her right to pull him against her chest and cage him in, between her chest and knees and face.

It’s not surprising to find tears running down her face; if anything surprises her, it’s that she has the energy to cry even now. Ladybug sobs openly into Chat’s fur, and he just kneads his paws into her thigh in comfort.

“Chat,” she manages, and then lets go of the poster and hugs him tighter. She’s too tired to hold her transformation, too emotional, so it fades and Tikki, equally as exhausted as Marinette, is asleep when she appears.

“Chat,” Marinette tries again, lungs constricting as if to stop her words before they escape, “I ne-- need you. C-Can’t do it on my o-own, you-- it’s, it’s _lonely.”_

And it is, unbearably so. Ladybug hasn’t admitted it, refused to admit it, but she is so desperately _alone_ on the roofs of Paris, without her Chat Noir. There is no one to help her, no one to talk to, no one to support her when she needs it. There is none of their comfortable push-and-pull relationship, just push and _give_ and it’s no good without him.

Something in Ladybug, in Marinette, is, is _broken,_ missing, and she knows it’s him, of course it’s Chat, he’s her balance--

“He’s not anywhere, can’t find hi-him,” Marinette tells him with tears blurring her vision, uncoiling to run her hands down his back in strokes she knows are too firm. “You’re--” she chokes, gasps for air, “you’re not-- not here either, Chat. Where _are_ you?”

It comes out accusatory. How _dare_ he abandon her, when she needs him?

“He-Help me, Chat,” she says around her sobs, choking on the words when they stick in her throat. “Help, I can’t do it without-- c-can’t, _won’t.”_ She’s ugly crying now, snot and salt in her mouth and she can’t see because her eyes won’t _open,_ she’s crying too much. She feels her tears drip into Chat’s fur and he wriggles in her grip, so she lets go and hugs herself instead.

In her lap, Chat suddenly feels heavy. Is she that tired?

“Oh,” says a voice, a familiar voice. He’s never been _this_ heavy, surely?

Chat’s not that heavy, no-- but _Chat_ is, her Chat Noir. Ladybug’s Chat Noir, the right one.

“Hey, Mari, it’s okay,” says the voice, and two warm hands cover hers, pull them away from herself-- open her up, she’s _vulnerable_ now, but it’s okay, it’s Chat. He can see her vulnerable because he’ll protect her.

Then she manages to get her eyes open. And it isn’t Chat.

No, not Chat, not when she finally realized she needs him. Now it’s _Adrien._

Marinette really shouldn’t be bitter, not when she’s worked herself into this state looking specifically for him. It’s just-- she’d been so relieved to have Chat, get Chat back, and to see Adrien feels like a slap to the face.

She pushes him away before she can think about it, scrambling to her feet and fleeing down the stairs to her room. Adrien looks so bewildered -- he has every right to, he’s just suddenly become himself again in Marinette’s room, he probably has no idea how he got here -- but Marinette doesn’t _care._ It’s not Chat and she shouldn’t be angry, but she is.

“Marinette?” Adrien calls, standing at the top of the stairs with one hand on the railing. He looks unsteady on his feet, like he’s forgotten how to stand.

“Why _you,”_ Marinette bites out, curled up in a tiny angry ball on her bed. “You should’ve been Chat, _I thought you were Chat.”_

Marinette shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be angry at _him_ of all people, but she can’t help it. She has broken herself looking for him, and now to discover she’s had him all along and lost Chat Noir is-- it’s unbearable. It feels like Adrien’s fault, for misleading her for so long.

“Oh,” Adrien says, and suddenly Marinette’s heart shatters. For a single instant, she can hear just how lost he is, how alone. How much he really needed those pats and cuddles, how earnestly he’d purred for her.

 _A stray,_ she recalls. Funny-- she has a penchant for collecting those, doesn’t she?

“I--” and Adrien freezes up, “Mari, I-- it’s okay.”

“Chat Noir is _gone,”_ she snaps, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes, watery and fiery at the exact same time. She is so certain in her grief-- she spent a week looking for Adrien and missed him in the most obvious place, how could she ever find a true alley cat in the entire city?

“No,” Adrien says again, a fraction more confident now, “he’s not. Really.”

He heads down the stairs, wobbling precariously but determined in his steps towards her. Marinette is too bewildered, too overwhelmed, too _angry_ to do anything but watch.

Adrien takes one of her hands gingerly, like he’s afraid she’ll break. Marinette is grateful; if he lies to her about Chat Noir, she _will_ break.

“Plagg,” he says quietly, “claws out, please.”

Oh.

 _Oh,_ oh, oh oh ohohohoh, it’s _him._

And of course it is, of _course_ it is. Marinette was never looking for two people after all; she was only looking for one, the one she’d already found.

“Marinette?” Chat says, and it’s Adrien’s voice. How could she not have seen?

Marinette pushes herself up off the bed, throwing herself into him and locking him in her arms. She buries her face in his shoulder, not caring that she’s knocked him off balance, not caring that he wobbles, not caring if they fall.

They don’t, of course. Cats are notorious for having good balance.

“Is this-- okay?” Chat asks, Adrien asks, _they_ ask because they’re the same person.

“I _missed_ you,” Marinette blurts into the leather of his suit. “I missed you, you stupid asshole.”

Chat laughs awkwardly. But it’s Adrien’s awkward laugh he’s borrowed. It’s awkward, and he feels awkward and _god_ does Marinette not care. “Which one of us?” he asks, like Marinette would only pick one.

“Both,” Marinette says, and then, because she can, adds, “You. You’re both.”

A thought strikes her, and she disentangles herself to take a half-step back. Does-- does he know? Because - if he can remember anything - he just saw Ladybug turn into Marinette, knows Marinette has been missing class and Ladybug has been around all week. She doesn’t know if she wants him to remember. She’s _terrified_ of him remembering, in fact. But she doesn’t know if she wants it or not.

“How much do you remember?” Marinette asks him before she can second-guess herself. “From being a cat?”

Chat scans her face, looking for something. Marinette hopes he finds it, because she’s got no clue what it is. He doesn’t reply for far, far too long. So long she’s certain he knows, how could he not--

“Not much,” he says softly.

Marinette looks into Adrien’s green eyes. Is he lying? She can’t tell. He meets her eyes when he says it - good - but anxiously twists a length of his tail between his hands - bad.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises him. “About-- you know.”

“Yeah,” Chat says. “Thanks.”

And he’s-- he’s lost some _spark,_ some happiness he had to be back in his human form. He’s deflated, that’s the word.

Marinette doesn’t know what to do with him, now that he’s not playful and cheery like her Chat Noir.

“Your father’s been looking everywhere for you,” she says instead. A safer subject, one he needs to know.

Chat winces. “I remember that much,” he says.

“What are you going to tell him?”

Chat shrugs. “I was knocked unconscious for days and taken in by a couple who lived near the Instinctor’s battle. They didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t wake up till today. Something like that.”

Marinette winces. “That’s-- drastic.”

“I was gone for a week,” he says nonchalantly, and changes the subject, looking at her with more interest. “You’re handling this hidden-identity thing pretty well.”

“Am I?” Marinette laughs. Awkwardly. _Don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird,_ she chants in her head. “It just seems kind of obvious, in retrospect.”

Chat smiles, a small, Adrien-esque thing. “Probably,” he admits, then winks. “I’ll be on my way then, Mari. Thanks for the help, and the pats.”

“Anytime,” Marinette agrees, and immediately gets the urge to slam her face into the nearest hard surface. _Aaaand you made it weird,_ she thinks with an internal sigh.

Chat’s smile turns into a smirk. “Careful,” he says, “or I might take you up on that.”

And he’s gone. Thank _god._

 

* * *

 

Ladybug is boredly dangling half-off a roof, her yo-yo slung around a chimney, heels braced on the edge. If her hand slipped, she’d be screwed. Her hand won’t slip; she doesn’t even bother to consider the possibility.

Without any sort of warning, Chat lands a foot away, and her hand slips.

He grabs her wrist, though, so it’s fine, sort of. Ladybug still squeaks and flails for her yo-yo a little bit, but he uses her weight to swing them around so they’re leaning on the chimney three feet from the edge.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says with a smirk. It looks weird on Adrien, but natural on Chat. Ladybug doesn’t know what to think of it, so she doesn’t.

She doesn’t have to pretend anything to be relieved; she throws her arms around his neck, yo-yo forgotten on the ground, and pulls him close.

“You’re a reckless idiot,” she tells him. “I missed you, kitty.”

Chat’s smirk widens into a grin; she can feel it against the side of her face. “Sorry, I was _indis-paw-sed._ Being a cat and all that.”

Ladybug pouts, draws back to look him in the face. “Were you a lost, stray kitty cat?” She’s teasing, but she wonders how he’ll explain it, if he’ll lie to her.

“No,” he says, taking a few steps away to bat his eyelashes at her. “I happen to be very good at seducing women to take me in.”

Ladybug outrights _laughs_ at that. “I gave you to Marinette, remember? Idiot.” As if anyone but Ladybug would put up with Chat.

Chat goes still at that. “You did?” He seems confused. “I-- the beginning is fuzzier than the end,” he admits, staring off into some middle distance above Ladybug’s head, and smiles. “I know Marinette looked after me.”

Ladybug smiles fondly. He’s an idiot (he’s _her_ idiot), but she puts up with him. “I gave you to her,” Ladybug tells him. “You’ve worked with her before, so I thought she’d be a safe bet.”

Like _hell_ was Ladybug going to let anyone else look after Chat Noir.

“Really?” Chat looks at Ladybug with something like amusement in his eyes. “You trusted me to her?”

Ladybug-- doesn’t know what to do with that. So she laughs.

“You’re still alive, right kitty?” Ladybug grins. _I wouldn’t trust you to anybody but me,_ she thinks.

Chat’s grin is entirely him. “I couldn’t abandon you, milady.”

Ladybug opens her mouth to reply, but a shrill scream cuts her off.

Chat sighs, turning towards the sound even though his grin is still on his face. “No rest for the wicked, yeah?”

Ladybug half-snorts at that. “You’ve been missing long enough. Pull your own weight this time.”

He spins back to face her. “Hey, I was plenty helpful against the Guardener. I’ve seen the footage.”

Ladybug doesn’t even both to respond, just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, kitty cat. Come on, Paris needs us.”

 _And I need you,_ she doesn’t tell him as she launches off. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

 

* * *

 

“Did you hear?” Alya bursts into her room an hour later, cheeks flushed and hair awry. “There was another battle!”

“Really?” Marinette summons up the shreds of her energy, spinning her chair to look at Alya. Her math homework is sprawled on the desk in front of her; she’s only done the first two problems, but Alya won’t notice. It’s Sunday already, and Marinette should’ve done this sooner but she was so tired she’d slept through most of Saturday.

“Yeah,” Alya says, sitting down directly on top of Marinette’s papers to pull up an app on her phone. “I thought I’d miss the beginning, but Ladybug’s response time was slacking. And Chat’s back!”

“I’m sure she had a reason to run a little late,” Marinette says mildly, leaning over to look at the video. God, did she really get that pinched look on her face?

“She’s so _cool,”_ Alya gushes. “Speaking of Chat Noir, though, where’s yours?”

Marinette stiffens. “My parents found out,” she lies. “They didn’t know he was here-- and, well, they wouldn’t let me keep him.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, girl.” Alya stops her tirade of energy to bump shoulders with her. “But hey, maybe he was the real Chat! He left and Noir showed up again, yeah?”

Marinette forces out a laugh. It almost sounds real; she’s getting better at this. “Maybe,” she agrees, smiling perhaps a little too smugly.

“Also!” Alya pauses the video to lean in. “I’m sure you haven’t missed Adrien’s return, have you?”

“But of course,” Marinette says smoothly, stretching out in her chair. How could she have missed it-- literally, how could she have? It happened _in her bedroom._ God, that’s still kind of exhilarating.

“Nobody can believe it,” Alya continues on. “Gone for a week! And he doesn’t even know the name of the people who cared for him.”

“Mhmm,” Marinette agrees.

“Gabriel seemed really pissed, though. Can’t blame him, really.”

Marinette shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Are you even listening?” Alya’s grin turns a little more wily as she leans in, jabbing a finger in Marinette’s face. “This is _Adrien,_ girl. Any other day and you’d be all over him.”

“Just tired,” Marinette tells her honestly. And she is. “Didn’t sleep much lately.”

Alya nods sagely. “Of course, all that worrying and cat-caring. Can’t have been good for you.”

Marinette has to bite back a laugh, at just how _bad_ all the worrying was. “Yeah,” she says.

“Well,” Alya says, “I’ll put the footage up in no time, so you can check up on the Ladyblog after you get some sleep. Just thought I’d give you a preview, if you wanted it.”

“Maybe next time,” Marinette says as Alya gets up from the desk, already heading back to the trapdoor. She yawns. “When I’m less tired.”

“Anytime,” Alya promises, swinging open the hatch. “You want Ladybug previews, I’m your girl.”

With that she’s gone, and Marinette finally lets herself giggle in the silence after the trapdoor closes.

“Yeah, you sure are,” she agrees, as if being Ladybug doesn’t gain her all the previews she’d ever want to an akuma fight.

She turns back in her chair to glare at her math homework. It’s basically pre-calculus at this point-- cut her some slack, she’s _fifteen._ And a superhero. Jesus.

The world seems against her doing her math homework. Alya’s only gone ten minutes before something heavy thunks down on Marinette’s roof.

Marinette lets out a long, self-suffering sigh. She knows, without needing to check, that it’s him.

“Come on in,” she calls up, rolling her chair away from her desk to stare up at the roof hatch.

Sheepishly, Chat drops in. Tikki, hovering on the corner of Marinette’s chair (trying to help with her homework), darts under the bed to hide before he can spot her.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Is what Chat decides to open with.

Marinette would sigh again, if she hadn’t already done that. Instead, she just offers him a tired smile.

“No,” she tells him, “come on in.”

And then - because she _can,_ and it’s a great feeling - she asks him, “Have you gotten Friday’s math homework? I have no clue what I’m doing.”

Chat grins, and his transformation fades. A tiny black cat - Plagg, Marinette would have to guess - pops into existence over Adrien’s shoulder, already glowering like Marinette’s pink bedroom has done him some personal harm.

“Yeah,” Adrien tells her, “I got it from Nino, and finished it before today’s battle. Have you seen the footage, by the way?”

Marinette groans. “Please don’t tell me you’re your own fan.”

Adrien looks offended. “Marinette, I would never! I only watch it to see--” he freezes up for a second before shyly adding, “...Ladybug.”

Marinette goes a little quiet, then. “Oh,” she says.

“This is painful to watch,” Plagg helpfully informs them, then darts over Marinette’s shoulder, towards her bed, and disappears from view.

“So...” Marinette tries again. “Homework?”

“Sure,” Adrien says, heading over to her desk. “Ooh, you’re on three. That’s a nasty one.”

Marinette snorts as she joins him, digging her heels into the floor to drag her chair back over. “Tell me about it,” she says.

It’s a new kind of peace, the way they’re talking now. Adrien’s way more involved in their interactions than he was-- _before,_ but Marinette guesses that’s understandable. She’s unsure of how to act around him, so she’s just fallen into the old habits of treating them both a bit like Chat.

Of course, she can’t treat him like Ladybug treats Chat, so she’s a little nicer. A little. Even heroes have their limits.

Two hours later, her math homework is completed and lies abandoned in a corner of her desk as they play an impromptu game of ten-second Pictionary on one of Marinette’s old designing sketchbooks.

Adrien holds up what Marinette optimistically guesses to be a rock. It turns out to be a potato-- such a difference, how was _she_ to know?

Her pigeon is guessed in a matter of seconds-- yes, she actually has drawing skills for things that aren’t clothes, _thank you very much Adrien._

She spends a good two minutes trying to work out a scribbly stick-figure drawing of a person on a building, before settling on Volpina due to the mask and hair.

“Lady Wifi,” Adrien corrects her with a little wince. “Wow, was Volpina a bad time.”

Marinette laughs, but inwardly she’s pulling out a gun with her finger on the trigger. Yeah, yeah it was. She would like to kill this conversation now, thanks.

“Ladybug wasn’t at her best for that fight either,” she reminds him. She really hadn’t been. Not at all. It was kind of embarrassing, to recall it.

“She was still right,” Adrien points out unhelpfully. “Volpina was bad news. I should’ve listened to Ladybug.”

“You shouldn’t always listen to Ladybug,” Marinette protests. She shouldn’t be protesting. Chat listening to Ladybug is very helpful, really-- Ladybug just needs to listen to Chat more.

Adrien frowns. “Maybe not. It’s hard, though-- it’s what the ring _wants_ me to do, kind of?”

Marinette glances down at Adrien’s white ring. Its shape seems painfully obvious, now that she knows. She sort of wonders how no one’s noticed.

She forces herself to shrug. _Not a conversation civilian Marinette can have with him,_ she reminds herself. Not about Miraculous, at least.

“You really are designed to be Ladybug’s partner,” she says instead, smiling at him in a way that probably borders on too fond for civilian-not-superhero-Marinette.

“Eternal sidekick Chat Noir, at your service,” Adrien says with a chuckle, bowing slightly in his chair. “I don’t mind, though.”

“No?” Marinette does her best to not seem interested.

“If I’ve got to be a sidekick, at least I’m hers, right?” The way he smiles makes Marinette realize she shouldn’t be listening. _Really_ shouldn’t be listening.

“I get to know her in a way no one else does,” Adrien continues, looking happily at some point beyond Marinette’s ceiling. “It’s like-- wow, this sounds weird.” He laughs, but adds, “It’s like she’s kinda my imaginary best friend, right? I don’t care if all of Paris hates me because I can only destroy stuff, I get _her._ And--”

“Okay!” Marinette says brightly, too brightly, _oh god I sound so weird._ “Sorry, I just totally realized the time. It’s already dark, haha!” _Too bright, too high-pitched, god he’s giving you a weird look you weirdo._ “I hate to force you out, but I am _exhausted.”_

“Oh, yeah,” Adrien says, not even sounding put out, just startled. His face is bright red, like he’s just remembered something absolutely _mortifying_ and he is so not looking Marinette in the eye, is he? Oh god.

“Sorry,” he says, “should’ve paid more attention. I’m tired after the battle, too, should be going anyway.”

Marinette nods fiercely, aware her face is probably redder than Ladybug's mask.

“Claws out,” he calls into her room, and Plagg zips out from under the bed with a groan and into his ring.

Marinette gets over her embarrassment long enough to watch his transformation with wide eyes. She swears it will never get old, no matter how many times she sees it.

“Tell me next time you get bored, princess,” Chat says on the way out. “See you!”

 _Princess._ As if Marinette’s face wasn’t red enough. Sure, he’d called her princess before, but not when she knew he was also Adrien. Not when he knew she knew he was also Adrien.

Tikki emerges from underneath Marinette’s bed, and her poor Miraculous holder almost has a heart attack.

“Why were you with Plagg?” Marinette says, distraught. “He's not supposed to know!”

“What?” Tikki says defensively. “I haven’t seen Plagg in forever! He knew where I was the second he was let out of his transformation anyway, he would have known I was here regardless of if we talked or not.”

“Tikki, he’s going to tell Adrien,” Marinette hisses. Oh god, she is so not prepared for Adrien to know.

“I made him promise he wouldn’t,” Tikki assures her. “Plagg rarely makes promises, but he does keep them.”

“Are you sure?” Marinette can feel some of the tension in her body bleeding away, but she’s unwilling to let go of it, unwilling to trust her identity to some grumpy super-powered magic cat.

“I’m sure,” Tikki says soothingly. “Go to bed, Marinette, you have school tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Adrien seems almost hyper aware of Marinette the instant she slinks in, thirty seconds after the bell. He doesn’t turn his head but she sees his eyes follow her movement when she slides past Alya to take her seat, sending up a silent prayer her entrance went unnoticed by the teacher.

“Ms. Bustier,” Chloe pipes up, not taking her narrowed eyes off Marinette, “Miss Dupain-Cheng was late. Again.”

Ms. Bustier turns around from the board, book in one hand, and looks between the two of them. “She appears to be here now, Chloe, and I don’t seem to remember her missing roll call.”

“You haven’t taken roll call yet,” Chloe says, voice sharp and flinty. Marinette throws a small smile in her direction, all teeth and no amusement.

“Then Marinette gets a lucky break,” and Ms. Bustier, who is clearly more aware than she will ever let on, slides her glasses down her nose a fraction and sends a pointed look in Marinette’s direction, _“today.”_

Alya nudges shoulders and grins at her. “Looks like Chloe’s back in good spirits, since Adrien’s back.”

“Yeah,” Marinette mutters, “good spirits.”

Five minutes in, Adrien slides a note onto her desk with a little grin. _Sorry about Chloe,_ he’s written. _She tried to visit me yesterday when I was out. She’s taking it out on you._ He’s drawn a little paw print instead of the “o” in the first “out.”

 _Not a problem,_ Marinette writes back. _Did your dad find out?_

For a second, she’s tempted to color in the “o” in “not” like a ladybug, but she catches herself at the first dot and erases it quickly. Instead, she scribbles a little cat face after the question mark and tosses it onto his open notebook.

She sees Adrien wince when he reads it. _No,_ the note says when he sends it back, _he had to go Sun morning. Skipped business meeting while I was missing._

His words get cramped at the end, from lack of paper, so Marinette quietly tears a corner off her notebook and sends him, _Man, that sucks. Glad you’re back though?_

Adrien’s response - _Yeah._ \- doesn’t specify if he’s glad, or his dad is. Maybe it’s enough that one of them’s happy, for now.

So, instead, she writes, _Oh, I saw the footage of the Sun battle last night. Looks really cool!_

The smile she can see on Adrien’s face, even sitting behind him, is well worth the looks Alya and Nino give her. Marinette’s trying to be a little ambiguous-- she can’t say _he_ looked really cool, but anyone reading it would think she’s just talking about the videos. Anyone but Adrien.

His pun - _Nothing less than purrfect!_ \- can’t even damage her happiness.

He seems more like Adrien and less like Chat, here. Perhaps it’s everyone around them, or the familiar setting, but somehow Marinette feels more like he’s just an average kid than some kid-superhero blender combination.

Perhaps that’s what Chat would be - is - too, if Marinette bothered to look at him as anything but a sidekick.

 _“I get her,”_ Adrien says clearly in her mind. _“I don’t care if all of Paris hates me, I get_ her.”

Marinette puts her head down on her notebook in a desperate attempt to hide her red face. Not a great time to remember that, thanks brain. Thanks.

Remembering it does make her a little curious, though. If that’s what Adrien thinks of Ladybug-- what does he think of Marinette? For once, Marinette has the unique luck to be able to be an unaffiliated third party asking about someone’s _emotions._ Wow.

The notes are a constant stream throughout the entire day, pausing only between classes and during lunch, when Marinette is promptly whisked away by Alya to be interrogated on “the boy thing.”

Five minutes to the end of the day, when the class is hardly paying attention and Marinette is whispering conspiratorially to Alya, a new folded square lands on her desk.

“So many notes,” Alya murmurs, eyes bright and full of laughter. “Are you replacing me, girlfriend?”

“Tempting offer,” Marinette says, already unfolding the note.

 _Doing anything?_ it reads. _I’ve got some haunts you should visit, if you can handle heights._

Marinette has to force down a giggle. Can she handle heights? That is never a question Ladybug thought she’d be getting asked.

 _I bet I can handle heights better than you,_ she writes. She knows it’s true; Chat is always at least a little fidgety hanging out on top of the Eiffel Tower, and Ladybug is never. _Where/when?_

_I’ll grab you, hour after school? Bring HW if you need help._

And free math tutoring. If Marinette had known this would be offered as soon as they revealed their identities, she’d have done this sooner.

Except-- she wouldn’t have. Because Adrien still didn’t know she was Ladybug. Half-reveal, then.

(She feels guilty. Why does she feel guilty?)

Alya nudges her, nods at the paper. “Got a date?” Her voice is hardly louder than a breath, too quiet even for Adrien to hear.

“No!” Marinette shoves her away, her voice slightly louder. “I’d be failing math otherwise, you know I’m terrible at it.”

Alya smirks. “And how were you passing math beforehand, then?”

Marinette doesn’t meet her eyes, instead grabbing her bag as the bell rings. “With a little bit of luck,” she tells Alya, and bolts for the door.

She doesn’t leave quite in time to miss Adrien’s bark of laughter-- she assumes it’s a joke Nino’s made, but when she glances back, he’s looking at her. Why would that be funny?

Marinette shrugs it off. She can ask him later-- in an hour’s time.

 

* * *

 

Marinette throws back her head and laughs, hair wild and whipping around her face and scarf almost tearing itself from her neck. The ground rushes up towards her, the air stealing her laughter from her mouth before she feels a familiar arm loop around her waist, under her backpack.

“Classy,” she tells Chat when he sets her down gently on the second-highest level of the Eiffel Tower. “Take a girl out to the Tower and throw her off.”

Chat shuffles his feet. “You dared me,” he points out. “And I caught you!”

Marinette’s still grinning. It’s the same rush of adrenaline she’s used to, from being Ladybug-- but this time she isn’t Ladybug, and she didn’t catch herself, _Chat_ did. It makes her happier than she feels it should.

“We’ll call it even,” she tells him.

He laughs. “Yeah. Even.”

Despite Tikki’s clear panic in her pocket, Marinette hadn’t felt any real sense of urgency. Yeah, sure, she was falling from a national monument at a speed that would probably make some people sick, but she had Chat Noir. And Ladybug’s costume takes just over two seconds to fully transform, so she could’ve timed it perfectly if she needed to.

(She knows precisely how long it takes to fall from the top of the Eiffel Tower to the bottom. She’s timed it, minus a rough thirty feet. She and Chat have also measured how long they can fall before they feel the need to save themselves, in the world’s most dangerous game of chicken. She beat him by three feet.)

Now, this time in the afternoon, the platform is actually fairly busy. A ton of tourists gawked first at the girl apparently falling to her death, and then at the leather-clad cat boy who had apparently saved her from her doom. They’re gawking now, as Marinette and Chat sit breathlessly laughing on the edge of the platform.

“Hey, you two shouldn’t be up here.” A tour guide, having missed the fall-and-save, comes over to scold them. “Do you have tickets?”

Chat flashes the man a cocky grin. “Sorry, this cat’s come up empty. Princess?” He glances at Marinette.

“Oh--” The tour guide - apparently realizing he’s just asked Chat Noir if he has tickets to go up the Eiffel Tower - starts waving his hands and backing away. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize it was you.”

Neither Marinette nor Chat appear to hear him.

“Whoops,” Marinette says, patting her pockets with a smile almost identical to Chat’s. “I seem to have dropped them.” For added effect, she leans _very_ far over the edge to look down at the ground.

“Shucks,” Chat tells the tour guide, shrugging, and glances at Marinette. “Guess we better fly.”

“Race you!” is, weirdly enough, the first thing out of Marinette’s mouth, and she’s laughing as she leaps out from the platform again.

She can hear Chat’s laughter for only a fraction of a second, before the wind steals it away. She can feel it, though - and really, that’s much better - when he grabs her mid air and slams his baton into a rung of the Tower, not too far down, to jerk them to a stop.

“Should I be worried about how willing you are to jump to your death?” Chat teases her as he sets her down on one of the cross-beams.

“My kitty cat’s there to catch me,” Marinette reminds him warmly.

He rumbles out a sort of purr, and Marinette squashes the urge to scratch him behind his ears-- and then she doesn’t, and he laughs but leans into the touch.

“Pats are always acceptable as a form of payment,” he says, and Marinette giggles.

“I’m sure you get all the girls that way,” she says.

“Just one,” Chat says, and smiles at her.

“What about Ladybug?” Marinette prompts.

“Oh!” Chat seems almost confused for a second, before smiling again. “Yeah, two, I guess.”

“Wouldn’t Ladybug be jealous?” She knows she shouldn’t poke at this, but she’s so _curious._ And, well, she’s not the one in danger of curiosity.

Chat smiles, like he knows more than Marinette thinks he does. “Nah, she’d be fine with it. I’m not-- _hers,_ you know. We’re friends.”

He shrugs, and Marinette suddenly wonders if Ladybug’s mask actually does cover her eyes. She’d have to be blind, to not notice the way Chat deflates a little as he says it.

“She checked up on you,” Marinette blurts before she can stop herself. “When you were a cat.”

Chat laughs. “She did, did she? How’d that go?”

Oh shit, Marinette hadn’t thought this far ahead. “She played with you, with string.” It’d been thread she was _trying_ to embroider with, thanks Chat. “And pet you till you fell asleep on my floor.”

Chat thinks on it for a moment. “I seem to remember being played with by a cute girl,” he finally says.

Marinette goes a little pink. “I-- I mean, yeah. Ladybug’s pretty cute.”

Chat bursts out laughing.

“What!” Marinette says defensively. “Don’t you think so?”

As his laughter dwindles, Marinette catches sight of something very _Chat_ in his grin.

“Princess,” Chat says, and leans forward, so close their noses are practically touching, “I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever set my eyes on.”

The words carry a soft puff of air over Marinette’s face, and she goes even redder. She shouldn’t be blushing-- Chat’s not flirting with her, even though that’s what his voice and his eyes and his mouth and his pose seem to suggest. He’s talking about someone else!

“Right,” Marinette says, leaning back just a half inch to gain a shred of distance. Her voice comes out raspy. She clears her throat and tries again.

“I think we should be going,” she manages. “You promised you’d help me with my math homework?”

Chat goes back to his normal grin like she’s flipped a switch. “Come on, then.” He offers her a hand, like he does to Ladybug when she needs a lift.

Perhaps it’s something instinctual, but Marinette finds herself slotted against his side before she can think about it. She worries for half an instant - this isn’t her place, it’s _Ladybug’s,_ Marinette wouldn’t know to do this - but Chat just smiles down at her and, baton in hand, takes off.

He carries them across the city, to a spot Ladybug and Chat use less often. It’s a rooftop garden they discovered once, with delicate wire chairs hidden among the foliage.

Last time they were here, it was late spring and everything had been blooming. Now, with the frost creeping up the pots and threatening to choke the plants, it’s still lovely but it’s _cold._

“Now,” says Chat, “is it the polynomials you can’t get?”

He pulls out a chair, next to a pretty little table, and gestures for her to sit. Chat takes the seat opposite it, looking up at her expectantly.

“It’s everything,” Marinette says, and she’s not sure if she’s talking about the math or him.

She takes the seat gingerly, purposely not looking at him. It works, for just a moment, and then there is a flicker of bright green.

Marinette looks up in time to see the green light as it sweeps its way down Chat’s form, revealing his clear green eyes and blue scarf and heavy coat.

“Much warmer,” he says. “Show me?”

Marinette tears her eyes away and digs through her bag, producing a few sheets of paper. She slides them across the table, circling a few problems with a pencil as he looks at them.

Once he’s focused on the paper, it’s easier to just stare at him. Marinette’s really not sure how she never noticed before; the curve of Adrien’s face, which she likely knows too well, is identical to Chat’s (which Ladybug has to know, seeing Chat so much and always illuminated by streetlights, perfectly detailing all of his facial features). No mask could hide the slightly pointed end of his nose, the way it wrinkles just barely when he smiles.

Or his ring, white but identical in shape to Chat’s Miraculous. So obvious; she stared at all of his magazine photos enough, why had she never guessed? He’d never had it before, but when Chat Noir suddenly appeared so did the ring, small and private and personal enough to never have made a fuss when the presses had an entire new superhero to focus on.

And good lord, how did she not catch the eyes? Not necessarily the color - hard to tell someone’s eye color when you’ve no idea if it’s fake or not - but the light in them, the amusement. Chat’s endless playfulness, Adrien’s teasing and his kindness, Chat’s gentle smile that he gave for bewildered civilians.

How could she not notice those eyes, sinking into her soul like fishhooks? Bottle-glass-green, sharp but smoothed like seaglass.

“Marinette?” Adrien asks, hardly hiding his smile. “Math or me, you can only do one.”

Marinette turns red, red enough to match Ladybug’s mask. “Adrien,” she hisses, scandalized.

Adrien tips his head back and it’s Chat’s laugh, Chat’s pretty face that tilts up to the sky. “Got your attention, princess?” he asks, rumbling out one of Chat’s purrs. The nickname doesn’t have quite the same effect when Marinette can see the way it softens his face, warms his smile.

“Yeah,” Marinette manages, then blurts, “Math. Let’s do math.”

Adrien laughs again, quieter, and taps the pencil’s eraser against the sheet. “Let’s start with three, then. How many values does _x_ have?”

“Two,” Marinette answers.

Like him: two values, two points, two forms. Same variable.

 

* * *

 

“You couldn’t resist keeping me, huh, princess?” Chat asks, dangling upside down outside her bedroom window.

Marinette throws her pencil at him. She left the window open to cool down her room, not for pests to come in.

He tilts his head, and the pencil goes sailing harmlessly out the window and into the night beyond. Marinette knows she’s not getting it back, ever.

“Test tomorrow,” she reminds him. “Studying?”

“Full moon tonight,” Chat counters. “Adventuring?”

Shit, it’s tempting. But full moon nights are Ladybug’s thing, at least when she doesn’t have math tests the next day. Which she does, and besides, why is Chat asking _Marinette._ He should go find Ladybug.

Is she jealous of herself? That is a _weird_ feeling.

“What was that about keeping you?” she asks instead, because she really does want to go out but she shouldn’t.

“You tried to keep me,” Chat says, and takes that as an invitation to come in. He clambers inside, twisting awkwardly from his upside-down position, and tumbles onto her bed. He pulls out his baton, opens it, and shows her the screen.

Engraved just under it, in the same font that she’d used on Chat’s cat collar, is her name and address.

“You _kept_ me,” Chat says, and he sounds a little awed and a little impressed. A little _grateful._

“I’m weak when it comes to strays,” Marinette says, feeling the heat creeping onto her cheeks. “Besides, you make a cute cat.”

“Why, thank you,” Chat says, grinning. Marinette laughs a little bit, turning back to her open textbook with a wave of her hand.

Chat grabs at her fingers, cool leather around her hand. Marinette glances up at him sharply; she didn’t see him move towards her chair, but he’s standing there like he can’t decide what to say.

“Really,” he says, after a long moment. “Thanks.”

Marinette gets the feeling no one’s kept him, in any form, before. She doesn’t think anyone’s _tried._

“Anytime, stupid kitty,” she says softly.

He grins wildly again, breaking the moment. “I’ll take you up on that, and impose anytime I want.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Marinette protests half-heartedly as he lets go of her hand and moves back towards her bed.

“I’m a cat,” Chat says, as his transformation vanishes and Adrien grins at her instead. “I do what I want.”

“You’re an _idiot,”_ Marinette says.

“You kept me,” Adrien reminds her. “I’m _your_ idiot.”

Marinette feels something warm in her chest, warm and constricting and she kept him, she’s _keeping_ him, she doesn’t care what anyone says.

 _I get her,_ Adrien said. And he’s right, how could he _not_ be right, Ladybug belongs to Chat, to Adrien. She always has, mask or no mask.

“And I get you,” Marinette murmurs, more to herself than to him.

Adrien flushes a pretty shade of pink. “Sure,” he manages, voice sounding strangled.

There is a moment of brief silence, when Marinette turns back to her book to hide her smile, and Adrien sprawls out on the foot of her bed, tapping idly at his phone to hide his embarrassment.

It’s only minutes later when Marinette glances over and sees Adrien, kneeling on her bed with his head resting in the open window. He’s watching the moonlight and the stars, like he can’t tear himself away.

Marinette almost feels mean for staying inside.

“Okay, kitty, I’ll play,” she says. “Where are we headed?”

“Really?” Adrien whips around and grins. The serenity of the moon-lit figure by her window is gone; he’s bouncy instead, bright and excited like a kitten. Even now, Adrien clearly doesn’t spend enough time outside with his friends.

It’s Thursday night, a week and a little after their last adventure outside. Marinette really can’t deny him this, of everything.

“Sure,” she agrees as she gets up and reaches for the sweatshirt on the back of her chair. “A little moonlight stroll, alley cat style. Where are we headed?”

Marinette can hear Plagg whine as he’s dragged back from her loft and into Adrien’s ring. Chat Noir grins at her, tail whipping from side to side.

“Let’s go out the balcony,” Marinette hastily suggests as Chat moves to pick her up. “The window was _very_ uncomfortable, let’s not do that again.”

Chat laugh-purrs, a warm, happy sound. “Whatever you say, princess.” With a few steps and a bound, he’s already up in her loft, reaching for the ladder.

Marinette scoops Tikki up in her palm as she follows him, stuffing her into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She’s only halfway through the trapdoor when Chat’s cool leather gloves close around her sides, and she’s hoisted the rest of the way up.

“I can at least _walk,”_ Marinette protests, even as he swings her around like a ragdoll and lets her latch onto his neck and waist like a backpack.

“Not fast enough,” Chat informs her, and then he slams his baton into the roof, carrying them up.

They escalate far above the city, balanced on the pole with its other end still on Marinette’s roof. Chat doesn’t swing them down and away yet, just sits perfectly content with Marinette on his back and breathes.

“You miss it,” Marinette guesses, from what she can see of his expression and his body language and the contradicting tension and relaxation from the height.

Chat exhales, long and hard, and smiles. “Always,” he agrees, and pitches them forward.

Falling is something Marinette will never be used to. The wind whips by, Chat yowls in pure delight as they go, and the pavement rushes ever closer.

Ladybug is used to falling. She can handle heights; she can always catch herself. Marinette has to trust Chat to catch her, and sometimes she thinks she falls even when he does.

They’re feet from the top of a roof when Chat moves just so and suddenly they’re rocketing up again, climbing higher and higher into the sky.

He does it again and again, until Marinette’s ears and nose and fingers have gone numb with the bite of the wind, and she just laughs and whoops when they fall, when the fear has faded into trust and Chat’s back is the only source of warmth.

He catches them one final time, far, far above the roofs of Paris, suspended on his baton. Marinette can see her home, a few streets over; it’s oddly calming, to balance perilously in the sky and wait.

The pole wobbles, and Marinette stiffens with Chat as they freeze.

As one, they both lean to look down, acting as counterweights to each other. Far below, hard to make out on the pavement, a figure in dark clothes has one hand wrapped around the base of Chat’s baton.

There’s one comical moment, when Marinette looks at Chat and Chat looks at Marinette and they sit in silence. It clicks at the same instant, when the baton sways even further and the figure makes no move to stop.

Chat lunges and wraps an arm around her, pushing them off even as the pole is tipped from under them. He shrinks it, pulling it up into his grip as they fall.

He twists them in midair, turning so Marinette’s on top of him, and he launches his baton off, catching it on an outcropping balcony a few feet below them.

Chat nearly drops her as the momentum jerks them to a stop. Instead, they slide down to the base of the baton, landing in a messy pile at the bottom.

“Akuma,” Chat gasps, eyes wide and shocked as he looks at her.

“I noticed,” Marinette says.

She’s on her feet before he is, leaning over the balcony railing at the figure in the street. They’re walking precisely in the center of the road, where neither of the streetlights on either side really light them.

“I’m going to be useful!” the figure cries, and Marinette can see him break into a run. “I’ll do it, you’ll see!”

“Sure he’s not just drunk?” Chat says, giving her a lopsided grin as he takes his place beside her.

Marinette smiles a little, distracted by the movement of the figure. He’s too coordinated, too quick to be drunk. “I wish,” she replies.

She glances out of the corner of her eye at Chat-- at precisely the wrong moment. She looks back and there’s a blur of light and movement, and the figure is balanced on the railing in front of them, stripes along his outfit fading fast.

“Half’s not bad,” the man says mildly, darting past Marinette and tackling Chat to the ground.

Chat rolls with him, using the momentum to plant his feet against the man’s chest and shove him clean over Chat’s head. He slams into the wall and crumples to the ground.

Marinette is at Chat’s side, helping him up even as the man rises again.

“I _promised,”_ the man insists. “Let me help him!”

He lunges, a too-open swipe for Chat’s hand. Marinette slams into his side, sending him careening away with a cry of surprise.

“Beautiful, my l--,” Chat starts to say.

“You’ll see,” the man cuts in. “I’ll be of use to _someone.”_

He’s gone again, a blur of light as he moves, and suddenly Chat’s gone too.

Marinette whirls around, tracing the light path with her eyes. They reappear, back down in the street, almost at the other end of the block.

Conscious of her lack of a suit, of her lack of the extra protection offered by her transformation, Marinette rushes to the balcony and scans for a way down. She swings herself out, away from the balcony, grabbing at a gap between two stone portions of the wall. Hardly pausing to look down, she loosens her grip just enough to start sliding down. The friction burns against her unprotected hands and probably tears the skin on her palms and fingertips, but she doesn’t slow her descent.

Her eyes still fixed on the struggling man and Chat, Marinette breaks into a sprint towards them. It’s too slow, she needs her yo-yo, she’s no use to Chat like this.

Too slow, definitely too slow-- she stops short as the man, one knee against Chat’s chest and the other foot on his throat, grabs both his wrists with either hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” the man says, glancing up from Chat’s ring to look at her. “I interrupted your date night, didn’t I?”

There’s-- there’s no _time,_ Marinette doesn’t have _time_ to hesitate.

Chat looks up at her, his hand slack, the threat of losing his ring forgotten as he meets her eyes. There’s the strangest tone of acceptance-- a complete lack of pleading, even when he’s as defenseless as she’s ever seen him.

She doesn’t hesitate.

“Tikki,” she grits out, and sees confusion flash in the man’s eyes a second before her yo-yo snaps around his wrist.

The flare of her mask is distracting, almost brightly blinding, as she pulls and the man is sent sprawling on the cement. She doesn’t know how much of her transformation is complete, doesn’t bother to glance down, as she hurtles towards him and slams him back into the pavement. He’d been trying to get up, but he’s flattened against the cement and Ladybug feels something in his shoulder give.

“His bracelet,” Chat rasps out, moving towards them, “it’s in his bracelet.”

Ladybug’s brain freezes for a second as she remembers. Oh god, Adrien, _Chat--_ no, no time. Not right now.

She wrenches the man’s arm back and he howls in pain. It’s more of a bracer than a bracelet, and - lacking the patience to try pulling it off - she slams the side of her yo-yo against it.

It cracks easily, a tiny black shape squeezing its way from the shards. Moving entirely by rote, Ladybug catches it and sets it free; the little white butterfly disappears almost immediately into the night.

Ladybug moves off the groaning man as his costume vanishes, replaced by sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. Gingerly, she rolls him over, taking care of his right arm. Chat slows to a stop at her side, and Ladybug pointedly doesn’t look up at him.

“Ladybug?” the man manages, squinting up at her.

“I think I dislocated your shoulder,” Ladybug informs him. “The police should be here soon, they can bring you to a hospital.”

“I’ll go see how close they are,” Chat says, somewhat hesitantly, glancing briefly at Ladybug before launching himself up into the sky.

Ladybug sits down beside the man and runs through her usual comforting spiel. The man does seem to find comfort in it, at least, and he thanks her.

Chat lands beside them again as a police car rounds the corner.

“Are we staying for speeches or leaving now?” he asks.

Ladybug pauses. It is good for them to stick around to talk when they aren’t running on timers; but now, she needs to have her own talk with Chat.

“Leaving,” she decides, reaching out for Chat’s hand and ignoring the way her suit drags on her friction-burned hands.

He pulls her to her feet on instinct, and she latches onto his side like second nature. They’re up in the sky before she remembers to worry.

Chat doesn’t say anything though, just quietly carries them across the city, the click- _fall_ click- _fall_ rhythm of their style of travel.

He lands them on Marinette’s roof gingerly, pulling in his baton and taking a step away from her like always. Why isn’t he _saying_ anything about it?

“Look, Chat,” Ladybug starts when he turns to go.

Chat turns his head back, tilts it.

“I-- there was never a good time to _tell_ you,” Ladybug says, and she’s Marinette again in the same breath. “I sort of-- I wanted you to know, when you were Adrien, and then there was just never _time--”_

“Princess,” Chat cuts in, taking a step towards her. He slides the baton back into place and says, “I knew.”

“You--” Marinette stops, mind stuck as Chat’s gloved hand wraps around her wrist, stepping closer. “You _knew?”_

“I remember a little more about being a kitten than I let on,” he admits gently. There’s a pause, and with a flare of green, Adrien gives her a softly pleading look. “The beginning is fuzzier than the end.”

“Oh,” Marinette says, soft and simple, and leans in to kiss him.

There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation for them both - is this _allowed?_ What rules apply to them, are there any they don’t know? - but Marinette has a growing suspicion nothing will ever be easy or simple for them. Adrien kisses back anyway, rules and hesitation be damned, and pulls her ever closer.

“I’m keeping you,” she tells him, triumphantly, like she’s won something.

Hasn’t she? It’s been long enough, enough battles and fights and bloodshed, that just maybe she deserves a reward.

“Only if I get you,” Adrien warns her, something precious and kind in his eyes.

Marinette huffs a tiny, quiet laugh. “There’s two of me,” she says. “I’m sure I can share, kitty.”


End file.
